Mirror, Mirror
by MorriLuv
Summary: Marilyn thought her sister went to school, and then ignored her for 25 years. After taking a gift from her, Marilyn finds out that her parents hadn't told her the complete truth. Marylin travels to the magical world, and learns that some wars aren't fough


There is nothing quite as depressing as the sound of rain hitting a tombstone. A small group of people stands around the grave, yet I feel so far away from them. They didn't know her… not as I knew her. And yet… I didn't know her either. For a quarter of a century I believed my sister had gone to an all girl's boarding school in Scotland, and decided never to come home. My parents told me she had not abandoned me, but that she belonged there now, that seven years of school gave her a love of Scotland. My parents lied to me. Oh yes, she had attended a school in Scotland for seven years, and yes, she did love it. But she did abandon me. She abandoned me to face the world alone. And when she came to me, begging for help, I wanted to refuse her. But I couldn't. She was my sister. Besides, I could never deny her anything; she was the other half of my soul.

"She didn't die for nothing." A voice speaks from beside me. "Harry would never have been able to defeat him if she hadn't died for him"

"She left me again." I glare hatefully at her grave, my eyes blurred by tears. "Sirius… What am I supposed to do?" I look up at him from my wheelchair, the raindrops mixing with my tears as they slip down my cheeks. His grip on the edge of my chair tightens, and I can see he's crying too.

"Forgive her."

#Three years ago#

"I am SO bored." I sit at my desk throwing pencils at the corkboard ceiling, trying to improve on my record of 6 staying up there. I toss another one. 7, boo ya grandma.

"Oh, new record I see." Michelle teases as she shuffles in the door, taking off her mittens and scarf. She bundles her jacket closer and sits at her desk, eying her mountain of paper work. "Why does the Prime Minister feel the need to give me a Christmas bonus, if I can't even go home for Christmas because of all the bloody paperwork he's given me? I see you've taken care of yours." She looks over at my empty desk enviously.

"Yup. I'm a genius; it's why Mike hired me." I grin at her and try to get another pencil up. Unfortunately it falls back towards my face, point down. "OW! BY NOBSE!" I rub my stinging nose.

Michelle snorts. "Oh yeah, you're a genius all right." She laughs as I send a pitiful glare her way and continue trying to toss the offending pencil at the ceiling. "Marilynn, isn't the name of the place your sister-" I drop my pencil and pay attention. "Works at, isn't it called the Museum of Ancient Gaelic Indigenous Cultures?" I roll my eyes at the corny name of the institution.

"Yeah, she stayed in Scotland to work there instead of coming home to London like she should have, 17 years ago, why? Did they forget to file their tax returns or something, and you want me to go bug her? Cuz I'm telling you Michelle, I love you, but that's one job I'm not doing. I absolutely will not talk to her." I nod my head and pick up my pencil, prepared to forget the awful business of hearing about my sister, and hope to reach 8.

Michelle rolled her eyes at me, and places the memo she was reading to the side, and goes to the next bit of paper shifting. "No, I don't want you to phone her for me, you lazy ragamuffin, I just thought that your sister might have been with the head of the organization, he's meeting with the Prime Minister at three o'clock."

The pencil misses its mark, and bounces off the top of my head on its way down, as I have turned to Michelle with a look of shock on my face. "Why would the prime minister care about some insignificant Scottish museum? I mean, no one except the people who work there have even heard of the damned thing!"

"I don't know." Michelle replies distractedly. "Why don't you phone your sister and ask her?"

I turn away from her and gather my things. "I told you I won't talk to her. Anyway, it's nearly three, I'm just going to run the itinerary over to his pompus-arseness, and maybe Mike will let us both go home early today. It is Christmas after all." I hop up on my chair and pull down all of my pencils, placing them in my drawer, before heading out of the door. "Happy Christmas Michelle!"

"Happy Christmas Marilynn."

The run over to the Prime Minister's office is long, and cold. I could, of course, take a cab, but that would require the mountains of money I do not have. "Bloody effing weather… bloody effing inconvenient…" I huff and puff my way up the steps and dance a funny jig into the office, as the snow has seeped through the fabric of my boots and is soaking my feet.

"So, you 'ave finally arrived." A nasally sounding voice announces from behind me. I roll my eyes to the heavens and plaster a smile on my face before turning around.

"Jean! I didn't know you would wait for me, how sweet of you!"

"I am not waiting for you; I was speaking to M'sieu behind you." Jean sniffed at me and turned up his nose in what I'm sure he thought was a very French manner. The sad fact was, Jean was from Manchester, but always parades about as if he were French because he thinks it makes him look important. In reality, he's just an arse, but we let him think what he wants. Wait… M'sieu?

"Sorry dear, you seemed so occupied with shaking out the snow from your boots, I thought it would be rude to introduce myself." An oily sounding voice from behind me drew my attention to the short man in a bowler hat behind me. He was dressed smartly in a pinstripe suit- smartly for someone from the 1920's. I wondered where this man got his fashion sense from. "Cornelius Fudge from… er… the Museum of Ancient Gaelic-"

"Indigenous Cultures, I got the memo." I remark dryly and take his proffered hand. "Marilyn Webb, pleasure to meet you sir." I blink confusedly when his eyes light up.

"Ah. Miss Webb, I have the pleasure of employing your sister; she is quite the useful secretary. In fact she is here with me today; no doubt you'll enjoy the chance to catch up." I glare at his back as he walks away with Jean, and mumble to myself as I place the itinerary for next month on Jean's desk, to be reviewed, changed, and handed back to me with annoying faux French comments on it.

"Mary." A soft voice breathes from behind me. I stiffen and blink back tears. I know that voice. Even after 18 years I would know that voice. I hear it every day from myself, albeit I always thought my voice was a lot better, but nonetheless similar.

"Susan." I reply coldly. I thank god for giving me the strength not to cry.

A long time ago, you used to call me Sue… Don't you remember Mary?"

"I don't want to talk to you, go away." I turn and move to go past her, but she grabs my arm as I open the door. The cold winter wind swirls around us, as cold as the feeling in my heart.

"Mary… Marilyn. I need to talk to you… the situation has changed."

"What situation, the one that allowed you to not speak to me, to your family for 17 years? Well Susan, forgive me if I just tell you to go to hell."

"Please… your life is in danger…"

"Screw you."

I hear a sob, and then the sound of something being placed on the desk, and a few more sniffles. Then, as the wind swirls up around me again, snowflakes landed on my cheeks to be melted by my tears, so faintly I almost don't hear it… "Goodbye…. Mary-Mary"

I begin to step out the door, when I remember the object placed on the table, I turn, planning to avoid Susan's eyes, and pretend to be looking at the itinerary (screw jean, my curiosity is more important) to be looking at empty air. I ponder for a moment, that the tedium of my job has actually driven me insane, until I look at the table and see a cell phone with a card sitting there. This cell phone is much smaller, and more compact than the ones they're currently selling in the stores, and I'm intrigued. "Damn her, she knows I'm insatiable." I move over to the cell phone, and grab it, stuffing it in my pocket and escaping from the office before faux-froggy comes to find me and sic internal reviews and tax files on me.

"Oh its excellent eggnog Michelle, really." I grimace as I gulp down another swig of the awful stuff. "But… perhaps a little too much egg, and not enough nog." I switch the phone from my right ear to my left, as I place the eggnog in my fridge- the back of my fridge. "No, I'm not looking at the present she left me." I frown at the offending phone and card sitting on my kitchen table. "I can too resist temptation." Another glance at the cell phone. Damnit. It's wearing me down. Susan probably hexed it with some crazy Scottish mojo. I can resist. Really. "Well… it couldn't hurt to look, right Michelle? Hey, why are you laughing?" I glare at the package. Stupid sister. Stupid cellular phone. Stupid Michelle. "Ugh, if you're only going to laugh at me, I'm hanging up on you. You hear me? Yeah. You too. Happy Christmas. Say hi to those evil brats of yours. Yeah, bye."

I never realized how shiny a cell phone could be. No, damnit! Must. Resist. Evil. Sister's. Present. I down the last of Michelle's eggy concoction, and resume glaring at the phone. Oh, who am I kidding, I really REALLY want to know what's in that card. I practically tip over my chair as I scramble to pull the package over to me. Hmmf. Pompous little thing, tying it up with a ribbon and everything. Now… what does the card say…?

"'Dearly beloved Mary,' Oh way to go, sounds like a funeral, not a Christmas card. 'I know it has been a while since we have last talked,' Yeah genius, 18 years." I snicker at the card for a moment before continuing to read the rest. "'But the reason I left you all those years ago is not what you thought.' " Say what? Please, I don't think mum and da would have lied to me. Well… probably not. Um… perhaps a few times. Oh bugger it. "'I cannot say too much in this letter, for perhaps even this may be intercepted. I know you must think me awful for staying in my world so long'" World? Man, she is barmy; Scotland is only about 5-6 hours drive, depending on traffic. "'But things are not as they once were. There are things I need to say to you… things that I need from you.'" Ah HA! Gotcha. I knew there was a catch to this situation. "Please… if you have any semblance of feelings for me at all… dial 4-588-62542. Please… Mary it's vitally important. Write it down dear, I know you'll forget the number, and you won't be able to read this note again." I frown. I can so remember its 4-588-62542. See? HA. I get up and place my glass in the sink, and when I come back I laugh. "'You won't be able to read this again.' What, will this message self destruct in 30 seconds? Pffft" And without warning, the letter lifted in the air, and burnt itself into nothingness. "Well… that's interesting."

It is AWFULLY shiny. NO! WE'VE GONE OVER THIS, PHONE YOU NO TOUCHY. I can feel my eye starting to twitch as I look at the phone, so innocently sitting on my kitchen table. Evil sister, versus having my curiosity satisfied. This is very hard.

"Arg, well, I have nothing to do, besides, I may be able to guilt trip her into staying away from me forever…" My mood has suddenly perked up. And without further preamble, I picked up the cell phone, and dialed the number. (Bwuahaha I TOLD you I could remember it, stupid sister.) "4-588-62542" I heard a ring. Another ring. Yet another ring. Then;

"_Apparatum Totalis_"

My last thought was 'I KNEW my sister was EEEEEVIL'.


End file.
